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I can’t sit in the hospital parking lot forever.
But I simply cannot leave Annalise alone like this. Patients need advocates. My dad was in the hospital for four days following his heart attack. I remember how, after the first day, a mortgage payment and three empty stomachs pressured my mom into returning to work while the man she loved with all her heart was unconscious in a hospital bed. After he died, I remember her lamenting with tears and handwringing that she hadn’t been there, that her presence might have made a difference.
Besides, Annalise isn’t as strong as she thinks she is, not for this challenge. People need people, I’m learning this more and more.
But I can’t tell Tripp. For so many reasons, but mainly because it’s not my place.
It’s past the lunch hour and my stomach is making noise, but the burn I smell is my brain trying to decide the right thing to do.
The right thing, presumably the juncture in most of my decision making where I take a wrong turn, either deliberately or quite by accident. Two weeks ago I made the wrong choice. Can’t afford to do it again on this one. Yet another life may hang on my choices.
For all the life and death nature of the last eighteen hours spent together, I know practically nothing about Annalise or her life. I have met one friend—
Friend.
Yes! I grab my phone and download a social media app I’ve not bothered with in ages. I’m not much for that sort of thing, but it has its uses. It takes several minutes, but I’m good at nothing if not detective work. I do find a page for Annalise, though it’s mostly private. Still, I glean just enough information to move the search forward, and ten minutes later I have a name and address for Maddie’s family, which I believe is where she and her lamebrained husband said they were staying.
Half an hour later, I pull to the curb in front of an attractive but very modest middle-class home in a suburban area several miles from the nearest beachfront. The sidewalk is long and straight, and I wonder if someone will see me coming. However, after two rings of the doorbell,nada. Man, I was counting on Maddie to bail me out here.
I’m halfway back up the walk when I hear, “Marco?”
I pivot. There’s Maddie, fully dressed and coiffed, in jeans and a t-shirt—no sign I’ve disturbed a nap or a shower or meal preparations. I know I’m looking rough. Was she afraid to open the door to me?
I jam my hands in the pockets of my jeans and keep my distance. “Hey, Maddie.”
One hand rests securely on the only partially opened door. “Hey…I’m surprised to see you.”
I’ll bet.
She tilts a little, the solid oak door still a bit of a shield between us, and peers around me, toward my truck. “Is Annalise here?”
“No.”
She nods, but I see her apprehension ratchet up. What could possibly bring me, barely an acquaintance, to her front door?
I hope Annalise doesn’t kill me for this someday.
I hope she’s around to kill me someday.
“So, uh,” I begin smoothly, “it’s about Annalise. She’s sick.”
Maddie’s wary expression vaporizes as she steps fully onto the small porch. “Sick? Is she alright?”
“I think so.”
“Youthinkso?” Another step my direction. “What does that mean, Marco?”
My eyes pinch closed. I hope—pray, actually, because it’s what I’ve been doing for all of what? Nearly a day? I blow out a breath. “She’s in the hospital. ICU.”
Surprising me, she clutches my arm. “An accident?”
I shake my head. “She’s sick.”
“Sick? But she was perfectly fine the other night.”
I nod along with her. “I know, but last night…” I drag my hand down the scruff on my face, behind my eyes seeing Annalise’s limp body, feeling the burning heat sear my skin. I pour out details of the night but gloss over the source of the infection. That’s Annalise’s tale to tell. My only purpose here is to make sure she isn’t alone.
Maddie’s fingers rest against her lips by the time I come up for air. “But she’s going to be okay now?”
